


iris

by humanveil



Series: the language of flowers [15]
Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e06 Zombie Baby Daddy, F/F, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: One foot in front of the other.





	iris

_iris —_

_hope; wisdom; faith; valour._

 

 

They stop off at some little, old town. Part ways in search of food, gas, supplies. Anything they can use to get them to California.

Addy trails after Warren, Vasquez and Doc both tracking Murphy while 10K goes off on his own, the respite a much-needed break to clear his head.

Cassandra’s death is still a fresh wound. None of them are feeling their best.

The area is rundown, ruined homes and barely-standing buildings the only thing left, each place they check more vacant than the last. Addy almost gives up hope before she finds what looks to be an old store—the windows broken, the sign faded, the shelves almost entirely empty.

She jumps inside anyway, tries her luck. There’s some clothing left lying around; not big enough to fit any of them, but fabric has uses, she knows. No food, either, but there _is_ water. A single barrel tucked away in the back corner, still somehow miraculously clean. Addy runs for it, tests a mouthful of it before calling out for Warren.

Warren grins when she sees it, fills her own empty water bottle. Takes a sip to ease her dry throat. “Not bad,” she says, looks at Addy impressed.

“Let me take a look at your shoulder,” Addy says, nods toward the fabric. “I can try and clean it.”

There’s a small struggle, but Warren removes her outer jacket to reveal the still-fresh wound. The bandages beneath are dirty, dried blood turned brown, the substance keeping the gauze stuck to her skin. Addy grimaces, does her best to be gentle as she peels the bandages back. Examines it.

“Looks bad,” she says, murmurs. She wets a piece of cloth, lifts her hand to gently wipe at the wound. Thinks, at least it’s not infected.

“Coulda been worse,” Warren tells her. “It’s lucky I’m alive at all.”

She says it simply, sees no point in sugar coating a hard truth. Not when it’s the reality of their day to day. Behind her, Addy laughs: airy and humourless.

“Surprised you are, with our luck,” she says, sighs. She shifts to stand on Warren’s side, so they can look at each other. Pats at the blood that’s dried against Warren’s skin and says, softer, “I feel like we keep losing people.”

Warren nods, and it’s resigned. Sad. Addy knows what she’s thinking. Has heard the same line about the cost of survival more times than she’d ever wanted to.

Warren looks up at her, tilts her head. “Don’t worry,” she says, reaches up to wrap her fingers around Addy’s wrist. The grip loose and gentle. “You’re not done with me yet.” She’s smirking, but her eyes are soft. A deeper meaning meant to be heard.

Addy smiles, slips her hand down to take hold of Warren’s. She squeezes lightly, looks behind her shoulder to catch sight of Doc pushing Murphy in the direction of their truck. “Good,” she says, turns back to Warren with a small grin. “I don’t think I could handle that on my own.”

She gets a quick, quiet laugh in response. Warren tilting her head to the side so Addy can finish up.

When they’re done, Addy tucks the barrel under one arm and grabs her bat with the other, the two of them turning. Walking back toward their mission. One foot in front of the other: no chance of surrender.


End file.
